


Embraceable You

by godofpancakes (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: Steve Lokison [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Hugs, Incest, M/M, PTSD, Protective fathers who are also gods, Sibling Incest, Warning: Loki, child of the gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/godofpancakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a history in hugs and one kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embraceable You

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Still un-beta'd, slightly less cracky

**1917**

The cry rent through the air, rousing Loki from his stupor. He hadn’t slept since he’d given birth, too consumed with all that needed to be done to let his body recover. The couch wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it accepted his tired body like a lover. Rising from it’s embrace pained him.

“I’m going to die. ” He groaned, trudging over to the bassinet, “What could you possibly want? You’re warm, fed and you have a clean diaper. I’ve done everything.”

From a soft white cloud of white linens, tiny hand flailed uselessly and tears poured from bewildered blue eyes. The fatigue faded into the background as he reached inside to gently lift his son into his arms.

“Don’t carry on so,” he rocked the baby gently, “this is the good part. You’re life will never be this simple again.”

Impossibly, the baby stopped crying. Loki blinked down at him. “Just like that?”

The baby took in a few more deep hiccuping breaths without a hint of another tear or scream. Curious, Loki made as if to put him back into the bassinet and instantly the tiny face contorted.

“No, no, no,” he repeated softly holding him back to his chest, “all right, Daddy’s got the message, little prince. You’ll sleep with me.”

The bassinet gathered dust. When the baby was awake, he was in Loki’s arms or near his feet playing with whatever toy had caught his interest. When he slept, it was in Loki’s arm or rising and falling gently with Loki’s own sleeping breath.

 

 **1925**

The vacant lot was a haven for the boys of the neighborhood. The convened there to play baseball, plan pranks and swap homework while chewing on thick wads of bubblegum. Steve hung back from the group, always curious and ready to join if asked, but aware that in the hierarchy of boyhood, he stood somewhere just above really annoying little sisters and below a really squishy patch of mud.  
“Hey, Steve, you wanna play ball with us?” One of the bigger, but not older boys, called out one sunny afternoon.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve tried not to look too interested. Eagerness was asking for it.

“Tubby’s home sick, so you gotta take left field.”

Left field was a miserable position. Balls that weren’t immediately caught headed out into the street, putting the fielder in danger of being run over by any number of horses, yelled at by irate pedestrians or worse yet, lose the ball entirely. Losing the ball was a shame from which no one could recover from until they purchased and brought in a new one.

Steve trotted out to left field, his stomach already sinking. He beat his mitt a few times and scuffed the ground to make sure they knew he was taking the job seriously, then settled in to wait. At first, it seemed like he might have nothing to worry about. None of the boys were hitting very well and everything dribbled in. One ball made it to left field with very little steam and he was able to scoop it up and toss it back with relative ease for an easy out.

“Good job!” The right fielder called and Steve had to fight back a grin.

Then the local bruiser, a hefty ten year old named Buster stepped up the plate. The grin melted away. On the first pitch, Buster nailed the ball and it went soaring over Steve’s head and out into the street.

“Home run!” The other team shouted, but Steve barely heard them. All his attention was for the falling ball. He couldn’t make a mad scramble for it like others might or he’d trigger an asthma attack. Instead, he waited until he was sure it was lodged for good on the other side of the street under Mr. Pavorti’s fruit display.

Falling into an easy jog, he kept his eye on traffic, nearly losing his toes to a distracted cart driver. By the time he reached the other side, the ball was no longer under the oranges. Instead, it was in the palm of a very tall, tough looking boy that Steve had never seen before.

“Looking for this?” The boy looked Steve up and down, “You shouldn’t be playing baseball unless you’re the bat.”

“Could I have the ball back, please?” It never hurt to at least start off with manners.

“Why should I? You going to try to take it back from me or something?”

“We’re playing a game.” Steve explained slowly, “We can’t keep going without a ball.”

“Hell no.” The boy laughed, “Those guys won’t even let me near that lot. Let ‘em go home.”

“You cussed.” Steve whistled, more than a little impressed, “Why won’t they let you play?”

“Cause I cuss and I spit and I’m tougher then all of ‘em put together.” The boy squeezed the baseball until his knuckles were white. “And cause I’m from the wrong block, I guess”

“That’s stupid.” Steve decided. “Come on back with me, if you give them the ball, I bet they let you take left field. They don’t want me playing and you’d be a much better batter.”

“Aw, nah. I couldn’t do that.” The boy looked across the street, a half smile twitching on his lips. “Who needs ‘em anyway?”

“I don’t.” Steve felt sudden solidarity for this other outsider, but certainly wasn’t expecting him to holler:

“HEY, FELLAS!”

The boys across the street tried to look like they hadn’t been watching the exchange the whole time. The tough looking boy hefted the ball and then threw it clear across the street, sailing neatly into the glove of the first baseman.

“NICE THROW!” Buster yelled back, “COME ON AND PLAY!”

The tough boy winked at Steve.

“HELL NO!” He yelled back, to Steve he said, “Come on back to my block, we can play Kick the Can.”

And for the first time, Steve felt eyes on him not in disgust, but stunned admiration. The other boys watched with their mouths open as he walked away with the best throwing arm they’d ever seen.

“That was fantastic!” Steve laughed, “Did you see their faces? I’m Steve, by the way.”

“James, but all my friends call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Steve repeated cautiously and got a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

All the boys on Bucky’s block looked a lot tougher than the lot kids. They hung around on the stoops with an air of quiet menace, talking in low rapid voices like a whole other country. Bucky ignored them and they ignored him in return.

In a quiet back alley, they spent the afternoon kicking the can around and talking about all the very grave concerns about the Dodgers chances that season and if The Shadow would catch that week’s villain soon enough to save the girl.

“It’s getting dark.” Steve said reluctantly. “My Dad’s going to start worrying if I don’t get home soon.”

“I’ll walk you back.”

“Won’t your Mom be worried about you?” Steve tucked his mitt back under his arm.

“Nah, she lost count of us a long time ago.”

They walked in companionable silence until they were right at Steve’s door. Bucky smiled weakly.

“Well hey, maybe I’ll catch you around.” He said, clearing his throat, “Or something.”

“Hold on a second.” Steve unlocked the door and called out, “Dad?”

“You’re late, sunshine.” His father ducked his head around the door to the kitchen, eyebrows knit in mild concern, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Is there enough for three?” He asked hopefully, “Only, my friend walked me home and its already pretty dark....”

“Friend?” The eyebrows unknit and went flying upward towards his father’s hairline, “Don’t see why not as long as his parents don’t mind.

“Come on in then.” Steve reached back and tugged at Bucky’s sleeve. The other boy looked gobsmacked, but obediently walked in the door. “Dad, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is my Dad.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers.” Bucky mumbled, eyes on the carpet.

“A pleasure, Bucky. Go wash your hands, boys, I’ll be done here in a minute.” His father turned back into the kitchen, but not before Steve saw a pleased smile on his face.

They shared the sink, cold water and a pale green bar of soap sluicing away the dust of the ball-field and the grime of the alley.

“I don’t need any charity.” Bucky said quietly over the running water.

“Who said you did?” Steve elbowed him, “Friends eat over at each other’s houses.”

They dried their hands on a stiff white towel, so Bucky’s hand wasn’t wet at all when he drew Steve in for a quick, awkward hug, hitting his back a few times briskly before pulling away and heading towards the kitchen.

“Last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg!”

Steve chased after him, laughing.

 

 **1930**

“You can’t move it like that.” Steve threw up his hands in exasperation, “The king can only move one space.”

“Kings can move where they please.” Thor grumbled, his forehead wrinkling up.

“No, they can’t. Not even in real life. They have all those responsibilities and people expecting things from them.” Steve pushed Thor’s king back to where it started, “And anyway, it’s just a game.”

“Yet, you take it very seriously.”

They sat across the stone table, leaves falling from the trees around them as Brooklyn settled into autumn. The pieces belonged to Steve’s father, the board was carved long ago with some intention of beautifying the park. It hadn’t worked. There were cigarette butts everywhere and a lot of the gangs liked to hang out in the trees, whistling at young women on their way home. Steve would never come here alone, but Thor gave everyone a pause that might attack them. He was a vast mountain of a man with his unfashionably long hair suggesting a certain wildness. Aside from the color of his eyes and hair, Steve still wasn’t sure what he had really inherited from him.

“You can play and still be serious.” He explained, deciding to reset the board entirely. “Anyway, you wanted to learn.”

“I do not understand so many things here and I wish too. I cannot be a part of your life if I am a stranger in your world.” Thor sighed, picking up one of the pawns and rolling it between his fingers, “This game reminds me very much of Loki. He moves in unexpected ways, but he has such firm rules. It is difficult for someone like me, who moves in straight lines, to understand that. Difficult also to love, but I always have more than was safe or good for either of us.”

“Oh...uh...” It was too much information, more than Steve wanted to know about his parents. Yet, a strange guilty part of him was happy to hear it. To know that Thor did love his father, was trying to understand him and Steve. “Look, if you want to know about this world, chess isn’t the way to do it.”

“I had not really thought so, but it was worth a try.” Thor set the pawn down gently, “What do you suggest?”

Steve blinked, but Thor seemed serious. He wanted Steve to come up with an idea. Trusted him to think of something.

“How about we go for a walk? If you see something confusing, I can explain it.”

That turned out to be more than Steve expected. Slowly, he began to realize how strange everything must be to someone who had never seen it before. They talked for a half hour alone about money and what it meant. In the end, Steve wasn’t sure he really understood it himself. Why did people put such faith in coins and bills when the barter system made so much more sense?

Their walks became routine and his father would see them off on Sunday mornings with a brisk wave and a bag full of sandwiches, claiming relief that he would be left on his own to write for a few hours. Their rambles took them all over Brooklyn and sometimes beyond. Eventually, they splurged and went into Manhattan to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Steve was enraptured. He wandered between the sculptures and paintings, talking a mile a minute.

“...and this is a real Rembrandt? Can you believe it, Pop?” Steve practically danced in front of the painting, “Look how he does the light, isn’t it magical?”

Thor put a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“It is. Tell me more.” Thor encouraged.

“Oh, look see...”

They got home long after dark to find his father asleep on the couch, papers littering the coffee table. Thor bent down and tenderly pushed dark strands of hair off the pale face,

“Wake now, beloved.” Thor rumbled, “We have returned with much to tell you.”

“You’re late.” Steve’s father accused, eyes slitting open, “Dinner’s cold.”

“Then I shall reheat it.”

Steve went to his room to tuck away the door ticket as a souvenir in his shoebox. Behind him, he hear Thor ask,

“What is this ‘Pop’?” And his father’s laughing reply.

When Steve emerged, Thor was beaming at him.

“You may call me ‘Pop’.” He decreed, “This makes me very happy, my son.”

He swooped Steve up into a hard hug. At first Steve hugged him back, but the day had tired him out and Thor’s grip was hard. His breathing became rough and he started to cough.

“Put him down, you idiot.” His father smacked Thor lightly on the arm, “Asthma attack.”

“My apologies.” Thor’s eyes went wide and he set him gingerly on the couch as his father handed him a paper bag.

“It’s all right,” Steve manged after a few minutes breathing into the bag, “I had a really good day today, Pop.”

“As did I.” Thor beamed again. “As did I.”

 

 **1943**

Even at night the camp wasn’t quiet. Patrols swept through the perimeter, groups of soldiers huddled together talking and joking to keep away while others snored and coughed in their sleep. Steve sat on the edge of the cot listening to all of it, absorbing the evidence of life as it ebbed and flowed around him.

There was no scream, no whimper or groan only a rough intake of air. If he’d been even a few feet away, he never would have heard it through the din of the busy camp. He turned and grabbed a shaking hand.

“It’s me, Bucky, you’re all right.” Another sharp breath, “Wake up, Buck, c’mon now.”

“Steve?” Bucky asked blearily.

“Yeah. You ok?”

“Sure, right as rain.” He propped himself up onto his elbows, “Doc says I might even get to sleep on the ground like everyone else in a couple of days. Lucky me. What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come see if you were up for a game of cards, but you’d passed out.”

“You were watching me sleep.” Bucky accused. “Creepy, man.”

“Standing guard. You were having some bad nightmares.”

“Figure I’m due, considering.” His eye’s skittered away then back to Steve, “You bring those cards with you?”

They played round after round as Steve told him everything he could think of about the last year while Bucky counted cards and berated him for his terrible poker face. Gradually, Bucky’s eyelids began to droop and he yawned.

“I should let out get back to sleep.” Steve started to gather the cards back up.

“No!” Bucky grabbed his wrist, “I mean...come on, we’re catching up right? Just sit a while.”

“Sure, sure.” Steve sat back down, “I mean I haven’t even told you about the flag thing yet.”

Bucky didn’t let go of Steve’s wrist until long after he’d fallen asleep. Steve rose carefully and walked to just outside the tent flap. A stray sob took him by surprise and he pressed his fist to his mouth, silencing himself. There was nothing to cry about, after all. Yet, he could feel his throat tightening and his eyes prickling in a way they hadn’t since he was a boy.

“Captain Rogers?” A tightly clipped voice inquired from behind from the medical tent. He took a deep breath and turned sharply. A starched matronly nurse looked at him with eyes of steel.

“That’s me.”

“I wanted to say thank you, sir.” She had a tight thin mouth that didn’t lend itself to smiling and it didn’t smile now. “That was a good thing you did.”

“I only did what any soldier would do m’am.” He ran a hand over his eyes, “No man left behind.”

“Not that.” She pointed her chin towards Bucky’s bed. “I meant staying with your friend tonight. People don’t understand. You can bring back the body, but the mind is slow to follow. I was worried about him.”

“I’ll look after him.” Steve said firmly and nearly jumped a foot when her crisp uniform enfolded him in a hug. She held him hard as if holding him still.

“You’re a good one, Captain Rogers.” She pulled away, a little wrinkled for it, looking a bit more like a warm grandmother than a nurse for a brief moment. “I wish all of my boys had a friend like you.”

“Your boys?”

“They’re all mine once they get here.” She glanced over the ward, face soft and sad. “Go and get some sleep. There’s a chair by his bed and I’ll fetch you a blanket.”

The chair was laughably small and the blanket the same scratchy horror he’d slept under in the USO tent, but he fell asleep anyway, one hand curled protectively around Bucky’s.

 **2011**

“....ba-ba-oo-laa-laa, bad romance....” Tony sang along with his blaring speaker system, “I want your loving, I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romaaaaance...”

Steve watched from the door, bewildered.

“Uh...Tony?”

“You and me could write a bad romance...”

“Tony.” Steve repeated, hiding a smile as Tony’s jean clad hips swayed in time with the music.

“Ooooh oooh caught in a bad romance...”

“Tony!”

Tony froze and made a complicated gesture that cut the music short. He turned around slowly, revealing a tight t-shirt that might once have been white, but was now far too smeared in engine grease to tell. There was soot running down his left cheek and at some point he’d started writing notes in sharpie up one of his arms. They looked like fairly complicated equations. Steve licked his lips.

“Let me guess. You’re more of a Poker Face kind of guy?”

“What?” Steve blinked. “No...what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tony cleared his throat, “So what brings you to my lair?”

“Oh, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go see a movie with my tonight. I know you’re busy and all, but you said I should see something on the big screen....” Steve trailed off shifting uneasily, “Sorry, I’ll-”

“Hey, that sounds great.” Tony grinned, a slice of pearly teeth in grimy skin. “I’ve had a craving for fake butter. I should shower though. Meet you at the living room in thirty?”

“Great!” Steve left at a sedate pace then broke into a job, heading up towards his room to change in a dark jeans and soft blue shirt that he had to stop himself from stroking. The fabrics were so different now, smooth and warm to the touch.

When he arrived in the living room, it was to a scene of Asgardian domestic bliss. Thor was spread across the couch, his head in Loki’s lap both of them watching an episode of Discovery like the crouching lions might leap from the screen at any moment. Loki was stroking Thor’s hair and on every pass of his hand the blond locks changed color. He hardly seemed to be aware of what he was doing. Tony game downstairs, still buttoning up his shirt. Steve smiled at him, then turned to the couch.

“Dad, Pop, I’m headed out. Taking Tony on a date, I’ll be back by midnight.”

Tony froze at the same time as antelope did on the plasma screen. Thor remained hypnotized, but Loki’s eyes ripped away from the screen and right to Tony’s face, his eyes narrowing to thin slits.

“I didn’t-” Tony started, but Steve was hustling him out the door.

“Don’t wait up!” He shouted, then turned to Tony, “What are you doing?”

“Sending an SOS to Pepper.” The cellphone protested the rough stabbing, Steve looked over his shoulder,

“I didn’t betray you to the enemy!” He protested, “I had to tell them we were going out. Dad worries.”

“Ok, I’m going to leave the fact that you are in fact a ninety year old man with godlike strength who can do whatever he wants totally aside. But a date? Are you crazy?”

“Oh.” Steve shrank back. “I thought...you seemed interested and everyone says its ok now. I mean, I saw that parade and the law.... I’ll just-”

“No! No. I mean...yes. Date.” Tony stopped. “How can you turn me into a fifteen year old girl? Seriously, Cap, it’s embarrassing.”

“Sorry?” Steve attempted.

“You should be.” Tony rubbed his forehead. “It’s usually in good taste to tell someone you’re taking them on a date before you mention it in front of your parents. That being said, I would be insane not to go you with you. You’re gorgeous, funny and probably one of the best friends I’ve ever had. But I’m going to fuck it up.”

“It’s a movie.” Frowning, Steve reached for Tony’s hand, “I’m pretty sure if I won’t blame you if the movie isn’t good.”

“No...no this is what I mean.” Tony shook their joined fingers. “I don’t hold hands. Hell, I barely see the same person twice. I’m terrible at relationships, just ask Pepper.”

“I did.”

“Then you’ll know-wait. You did?”

“Well, I told her I was thinking about it. She knows you better than anyone else and I needed to be sure.” Sighing Steve started walking toward the movie theater. He hadn’t let go of Tony’s hand, forcing him to follow. “She said that she loved you, but you were terrible for each other.”

“Huh. That’s surprisingly generous of her.”

“She may have added a few swear words and personal remarks, but I did get her drunk.” He frowned, “I didn’t think it would take so much. She’s so tiny.”

“She’s been keeping up with me for years.” He snorted, “So you liquored up and interrogated the CEO of a powerful company, keep going, I want to see where this spiral of sin wound up. Did you kick a puppy?”

“No! She was the one that said she couldn’t talk about it unless she’d had a drink! Anyway, she said she thought you needed someone and that we deserved each other.” He glanced at Tony. “I don’t think that was a compliment.”

“Good call.”

“I think you should give me a chance.” Steve said firmly. “I promise we’ll still be friends.”

“Even if I cheat on you or insult you in font of visiting dignitaries or puke on you or generally act like a terrible person?”

“Tony, you called me Captain Tightpants in front of the French Ambassador last week, you once threw up in my shield after you were concussed in battle then _kept fighting until you passed out_ which you later claimed was somehow my fault and refer to me as ‘the poster child for repealing incest laws’ in front of my parents. I’m pretty sure we’ve crossed all those lines.” He squeezed Tony’s hand. “You also talk to me like I’m a person, not a medical mystery. When I’m upset, you make me laugh. When I don’t get whats going on, you explain it to me without acting like I’m too fragile to know. You’ve saved my life more times then I can count and you keep that creepy reporter lady from molesting me which deserves a medal.”

“So...the good outweighs the bad then?”

They stopped before the theater. Everyone in the crowd craned their necks trying to look at the celebrities without being seen to look at them. Steve faced Tony full on, searching his dark eyes and then nodded solemnly.

“It helps that I’ve wanted to have sex with you from the first minute I saw you out of suit.”

“You’re ruining the Apple Pie image here, Cap.” Tony glanced around, catching the eye of one blushing co-ed. “Think someone might notice.”

“Screw them.”

Despite months of training with him, Tony still left his left leg weak and Steve took advantaged, hooking his ankle around it and unsteadying Tony enough that he fell right into Steve’s waiting arms. In a dip that mirrored a picture made famous a year after Steve was impersonating an ice sculpture, he made his final argument. The kiss was nearly chaste, a smooth press of lips that spoke to months of repressed feelings and lust.

A bright flash shattered their intensity. Steve pulled away long enough to glimpse at least five people with their cellphones out and snapping away.

“Oh fuck.” Tony groaned. “Your fathers are going to murder me. Or worse.”

“They are not.” Steve straightened them both up, reaching over to smooth down the collar of Tony’s shirt. “Now. Date.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Tony snapped to attention. “Will there be dinner afterwards, sir?”

“Shut up, soldier.”

The picture made the front page of the newspaper. Steve wouldn’t ordinarily pay attention to that fact, but Tony was standing in his bedroom waving it around in hysterics.

“I don’t even read the paper. ” Tony complained. “JARVIS just gives me headlines and I move on. Not this morning! No! I get down to my lab and he’d left it on my desk with dagger stabbed through the title”

“Who?” Steve took the paper from his hand. The photo had come out well. He wondered idly if it would be weird to frame it.

“Your psycho ex-villain father! Who else?”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he wants me dead for touching his precious baby boy!”

“Tony, I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion.” He folded the paper and set it on his desk. “He made a few bad decisions, but despite what you may think, he knows I’m a grown man.”

“He’s the living embodiment of trickery and malice.” Tony stared at him, “Have you not read the myths?”

“The myths also said that he slept with a horse.” He dropped a kiss on Tony’s forehead. “Don’t take everything you read literally.”

“How do you allegorically sleep with a horse? What would the moral of that story be?”

“I choose to think it meant that I have low standards.” Loki said dryly from the doorway.

“Dad, can you please tell Tony you’re not going to murder him for dating me?” Steve demanded. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“Why would I do something like that?” Loki pursed his lips, “You’re a grown man, you can make your own choices.”

“Exactly!” Steve threw up his hands, “Happy now, Tony?”

“Sure. Thrilled.”

“Great, I’m going to go work out.” Steve kissed Tony’s cheek and started for the door.

“Murder is so unimaginative.” Loki said quietly. “If you hurt him, I will discover whole new forms of torment-”

“Dad!” Steve snapped, “I can still hear you! Leave Tony alone. It’s mean to play with your food.”

“Oh come on, sunshine, you’re taking all the fun out of it!”

“Are we playing a game?” Thor asked, peering his head around the door.

“No.” Loki sighed. “Steve won’t let me.”

“Breaking my will to live is not a game.” Tony said firmly.

“Oh, you are dating my son! And verily, you must be warned.” Thor attempted a stern face, “Bones will be broken and horrors visited on your very soul should you do him any harm.”

“Thanks, Pop.” Steve rubbed his forehead. “Do we all have our threats out of our system now?”

“Yes.” The two gods mumbled.

“Good. Now leave Tony alone. Go on, out with both of you.”

They left, still grumbling as they went.

“Steve.” Tony said slowly, “I need you kiss me again right now or I’m going to forgot why being with you is worth all this.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Steve laughed and pulled Tony into a warm hug and a long lingering kiss. “And for the record, I think I’m a Born That Way kind of guy.”

“You listened to Gaga?”

“Her costumes scare me, but I want to understand you. Understand your world.”

“You know, that’s both the nicest and the strangest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Tony slid his fingers into Steve’s with flirtatious smile. “Maybe you’re worth the wrath of the gods.”

“And you haven’t even ridden on my Disco Stick yet.”

“....never try to make a sex joke ever again, Cap. Never. Again.”


End file.
